Reminiscing
by Fury Seven Kerrigan
Summary: Trip and Malcolm celebrate some shore leave in a London pub where Malcolm opens up to his friend about his aquaphobia. Written for "Drown Malcolm Month".


Reminiscing

_Enterprise_ was making a long-overdue trip to Earth for the sole purpose of R&R for the crew.

Archer had decided it was definitely about time for everyone to see their families.

There was a shift basis so that there was still a crew on board at all times, they just took turns to go to Earth.

Trip caught up with Malcolm as he was walking from the Armoury.

"Hey Mal!" He clapped him on the shoulder as Malcolm turned towards him. "What'cha doin' for your shore leave then?"

Malcolm turned back to carry on walking, Trip falling in next to him.

"Hadn't really thought about it. I'll probably stay here- there are some reports to be done." Malcolm said.

Trip's eyebrows raised sky-high. "You're not going to see your folks at all?"

Malcolm was focussed entirely on the PADD he'd been holding. "No. Hadn't planned on it."

His tone was final. Trip wanted to ask why not, but Malcolm clearly wasn't opening up.

Trip's mind wandered for a second. "Wanna go somewhere with me?"

Malcolm quickly turned to look at him. "Go somewhere? Aren't you visiting your family?"

Trip nodded and smiled. "Well sure, but I think a drink between mates on Earth for once with solid ground beneath our feet- _and_ without getting tricked into a basement would be great! Don' you agree?"

Malcolm stopped and looked at Trip.

"That _would_ be good." he said slowly, though agreeing whole-heartedly.

"Great!" Trip said, taking that instantly as an affirmative on Malcolm's part. "Why don't we go to someplace you know? I've always wanted to see a real English pub."

Malcolm was a little taken aback. "Uh, alright. I do know of a few good ones. London, Oxford... a couple in Leicestershire, though that may be out of the way. What were you thinking of?"

"Oh, nothin' in particular. I'll let you decide."

They were outside Malcolm's quarters. "Why don't you pack a few things now?" Trip said. "I'll meet you outside the next shuttle- it leaves in an hour."

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That evening, Trip and Malcolm were sitting at a table in a dimly-lit pub in London, each with a pint in front of them.

"So here you are inside one of the United Kingdom's finest drinking establishments," Malcolm told Trip, gesturing around.

Trip looked around and had to admit the place was nice- wooden framed burgundy leather seats, wooden tables, pewter bar with a wooden gazebo-like frame around it and lit stained glass in green and cream around it. The booths that the tables were situated in made it both quaint and private and the roaring fire in a great brick fireplace certainly helped the atmosphere. Stacks of dominoes, cards, scrabble, and die were dotted around making it a bit of a gentlemanly pub.

"I like it," Trip said, smiling.

Malcolm smiled back. "I thought this place wouldn't let you down. I think it's looked the same for the last couple of hundred years or so. At least, it's always had that impression on me."

Trip glanced around again. "Yeah, I think you might be right there Malcolm."

He drank some of his beer that Malcolm had bought him and set it down. "I've been meaning to ask you a few things," he said, looking thoughtful.

"Oh yes," Malcolm replied, looking over the rim of his glass.

"You weren't that interested abou' goin' home, even though this is the perfect time to do it. It's not like shore leave for us comes all that regular, you know?"

Malcolm set down his glass and raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Trip had the grace to look uncomfortable. "Well, I really don' want to pry," he said, shifting in his seat. "But you know, it's what friends do- they look out for each other, you know?"

There was a silence between them for a while until Malcolm nodded towards Trip's nearly empty pint.

"You want another?"

Trip nodded, not saying anything.

A few minutes went by until Malcolm came back with two more pints and sat down opposite Trip again.

"It's not that I don't like my family, you understand. It's that, the tension between my father and me is such that I wouldn't get a relaxing shore leave, were I to go home," Malcolm said suddenly.

Trip stared at Malcolm. He hadn't really been expecting a full answer. He waited a moment, then decided to push a little further, see if Malcolm would open up a bit more.

"Home isn't that relaxin' then?"

The corner of Malcolm's mouth twitched. "Well, we don't see eye-to-eye."

"He wasn't a..." he struggled for the right word- "_bad_ dad, was he?"

Malcolm quickly looked up. "Oh no, not at all! Certainly not. He wasn't abusive in any way. We were just like chalk and cheese- opposites, I suppose."

Trip mulled this over, taking a healthy gulp or two of his pint. Malcolm did the same.

"Of course, it didn't help that he was a Navy man and that I'm afraid of drowning," Malcolm said, half to himself, half to his pint.

"Eh? Wha' did you just say?" Trip said, almost dropping his pint loudly on the table top, getting a glare from the barman.

Malcolm looked up quickly, his mouth trying to form an explanation, or an excuse, but no sounds coming forth.

"Uh, I hadn't meant to say that out loud," he eventually said, overcoming his sudden speechlessness.

"You're afraid of drowning?" Trip said in a stage whisper, leaning in towards Malcolm.

"Shhh! Keep your voice down!" Malcolm hushed as he leaned in as well, not wanting anyone else to hear, despite the fact that he didn't know anyone else in the pub. "And so what?" he said defensively. "I don't think it's that unnatural. Drowning isn't exactly a great experience you know!"

"How would you know? Have you ever drowned?" Trip asked.

Malcolm sat right back and Trip instantly regretted his words. He hadn't meant to sound so... unbelieving. Or direct.

Malcolm finished his pint. Trip winced and nursed his a bit more, than drank the last drops.

"I'm sorry Mal," he said finally. "I really didn't mean to pry. I sure didn't wanna sound so rude."

Malcolm looked at him pointedly, then his expression softened into a small smile again.

He didn't want the evening to be ruined by Trip being... well, Trip. He was direct and to the point, but Malcolm had to admit that it was refreshing to have someone be up front and honest. So he changed the subject and they did indeed have a good evening reminiscing and having fun.

A few more pints later and both of the men as well as the conversation had mellowed. Trip was humming along to the old-timer rock band which had set up in the corner an hour or so beforehand, and Malcolm was mulling over thoughts.

"You know what," he said to Trip, slurring ever so slightly, his sharp accent softening.

Trip slowly turned his head toward Malcolm again. "Whassat?"

"I accidentally told the Captain once, so it seems more than appropriate to tell you," Malcolm continued.

"Whassat?" Trip said again, propping his chin up with his hand, elbow on table.

"I did nearly drown once, tha's why I have aka- aquak- er, aquaphobia." Malcolm picked up his near-empty glass and peered into the bottom of it, inspecting. He put it down again and looked up at Trip, raising an eyebrow. "I think it's a reasonable phobia, if ever, don't you?"

"Aw hell Malcolm," Trip said. "I surely am sorry for bringing it up before. I didn' mean anything by it."

"No really," Malcolm said, raising a hand to show no harm had been done. "What are friends for after all?"

Trip smiled. Malcolm wasn't the most forthcoming at the best of times, so the fact that he was willing to share now reminded him of how strong a friendship it was that had developed between them. "In tha' case," he said, "shoot."

Malcolm sat back. "There's not a lot to tell really. Swimming in the sea on the south coast- Cornwall. Family holiday and I was, oh about 13. There's good surfing to be had there and the waves can get quite strong. In any case, I wasn't paying much attention and I got swept under. Luckily for me, my father _had_ been paying attention and is also an excellent swimmer so he came to my rescue pretty quickly. Unfortunately not before I had swallowed what felt like gallons of seawater. I was throwing up both breakfast and salty water until my throat was raw and I was shaking."

Malcolm paused.

Trip blinked, not wanting to interrupt while Malcolm was talking.

"I felt so embarrassed. I could barely look at my father." Malcolm gave a small mirthless laugh. "Truth is, after that I could barely look at him again." He looked up at Trip, looking him right in the eye. "You see, he wanted me to join the Royal Navy, but after nearly drowning, I just... couldn't," he finished, a bit lamely.

"I've barely been able to look at him since." He paused again. Trip still said nothing. "It's silly. I respect the man, and... and he's my father... I've just... well I've just never been that good at _talking_ to him. And he's the same. Such that we've barely said two words to each other since. It's daft- we were so close once."

Malcolm went quiet after that.

Trip drank the last drop of his pint and then leant forwards. "You know what Mal," he began, "tomorrow, you need to write to your father and get all this behind you. You've just said it all out loud to me in the middle of a pub. It's definitely about time to mend some bridges there I reckon. Then," and he sat back up, stretching, "you are comin' with me to see Mama Tucker and have a proper family holiday. I've been a-promising to bring you home to meet her an' she'll kill me if she finds out we were on Earth and I didn' keep ma' promise. You gotta promise me now Mal, that you'll do both those things. Promise." And he looked Malcolm dead in the eye.

Malcolm glared at him, but the steely gaze and the alcohol melted his resolve a little too quickly for his liking.

"Fine," he said. "I'll do it. But only because when we return to _Enterprise_ I need some power to the phase cannons and I need you to comply," he joked, and he picked up his pint glass once more just to check there was, indeed, no more left.

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The next day, both Trip and Malcolm woke up with a desperate need for both caffeine and a full English breakfast. Luckily, as they were in London, Malcolm knew just the place.

Over the remains of hash browns and bacon, they drank their coffee.

"So Mal," said Trip, his voice a little grating from the alcohol the night before. "There's a shuttle to Florida leaving in a couple of hours. I hope you have a PADD packed to write a certain letter?"

Malcolm merely looked at him over the rim of his cup.

"Come on Mal," Trip said. "You promised last night."

Malcolm pursed his lips, remembering full well that he had, indeed, made that promise. He felt embarrassed by it, but he was a man of his word.

"Fine."

"You'll write the letter to your daddy?"

"Yes. Fine."

"And you'll have a fun time with my family?"

"Yes."

"It won't be a chore you know," Trip said, trying to spark a little enthusiasm in his friend.

At this, Malcolm did at least look apologetic. "Yes, sorry. I _am_ looking forward to a light-hearted holiday where I know we aren't going to get tied up in our underwear in a basement somewhere."

"Low blow!" Was all Trip said, laughing.

And all Malcolm could do was laugh as well.

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Only a few hours later, they had landed in Florida, and Trip was looking around for the familiar faces of his family, ready to welcome him home. Spotting them, he turned to Malcolm.

"Right," Trip said grabbing Malcolm by his shoulder, spinning him around, and walking with him with his arm thrown around his shoulders, "let's go home. Aren't you glad you came? I'm sure as hell not having a friend of mine rotting all on his lonesome on a ship when he could be getting some family fun!"

Malcolm felt a little nervous about staying with such a large and reputedly loud family, but he was looking forward to it as well, he had to admit to himself.

Trip interrupted his line of thought. "A couple o' days being surrounded by larger than life loud Tuckers will do you nicely."

And he led a barely-protesting Malcolm off to the Florida home.


End file.
